


Thirteen Smiles

by murderofonerose (atmilliways)



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Because when I think about sweaters, F/F, I think about boobs in sweaters, Ladyklok - Freeform, So actually it's Nat/Charlie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27029632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atmilliways/pseuds/murderofonerose
Summary: Nat was reading in her room, sprawled on the luxurious empress-sized mattress that she’d demanded into existence as soon as Dethklok was big enough to get whatever she asked for, when she heard the door open and close behind her. After years and years of metal concerts her hearing wasn't exactly the best—not that she’d ever admit it—but she’d been listening for it all night.
Relationships: Nathan Explosion/Charles Foster Offdensen
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Thirteen Smiles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kloktober 2020 day 15 prompt, "Sweaters or swimwear." And, as the tag says, when I think sweaters, I think boobs.

Nat was reading in her room, sprawled on the luxurious empress-sized mattress that she’d demanded into existence as soon as Dethklok was big enough to get whatever she asked for, when she heard the door open and close behind her. After years and years of metal concerts her hearing wasn't exactly the best—not that she’d ever admit it—but she’d been listening for it all night. 

“Don’t turn around yet,” Charlie Offdensen said quickly when Nat started to perk up. “I’m, ah, not sure I’m comfortable with this.”

“Oh come on,” Nat protested, even as she settled obediently back down onto her stomach. “You’re wearing it, right? All of it?”

“And a jacket,” came the stiff reply. 

“Well? You agreed, so come on. Take it off and let me see.”

“Natalie, I don’t think this is—”

“You agreed,  _ Charlotte _ . Come on.”

Charlie gave a quiet huff. There was a pause during which suit jacket buttons were presumably being undone, and then a rustle of fabric as it was folded and draped over a nearby piece of furniture. Again, Nat’s hearing wasn’t great, but she was really,  _ really _ concentrating here. 

“Fine, turn around.”

Nat was up on her knees and doing a one-eighty to face the door before she’d even finished saying it. 

~

This had all started the day Nat had realized she’d never seen Charlie in a skirt. No one in Dethklok ever wore skirts either either—not even Murderface, who wore  _ schkortsch thank you very fucking much _ —but their manager wasn’t part of that. She never dressed up or went casual. It was always pantsuits, with ties and button down shirts that were  _ always _ buttoned up all the way to the top. 

So of course Nat had voiced the thought the next time she saw her, which had led to a series of miscommunications on both their parts . . . and, eventually a first date. Nat wasn’t entirely clear on how that had happened, but she sure as hell had no intent to complain. 

Except for the part about how, on all their dates, Charlie never dressed up or went casual. It was always pantsuits. 

“Do you even own other clothes?” Nat had asked one night while playing with the other woman’s curls. Her own hair was straight, and technically so was Charlie’s, but it held a curl just fine from being twisted up in a bun every morning straight out of the shower. “Like, even a sweater or something?”

“Mm? No,” Charlie replied. 

“Seriously?”

She shrugged, stifling a yawn. “My office has a door leading straight to my apartment, and my clients are the most famous musicians alive, constantly under the watch of the paparazzi. I’m basically always at work.”

“Seriously.”

“Yes, Nat, seriously. This is about as dressed down as I get.”

Green eyes flicked down her body, taking in everything from the breasts that those suits and plain cotton bras really didn’t do justice to the firm ass and elegantly sculpted (unshaven) legs, then back up again. “Well, I’m not saying I don’t appreciate that.”

“Thank you.” Charlie lost the battle against her next yawn, and wriggled to move her head from the pillow of Nat’s generous bosom to an actual pillow. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have an early day tomorrow.”

“You always have early days tomorrow,” Nat teased, but she was already turning an idea over in her head.

“That’s what you pay me for.” She kissed Nat’s shoulder and closed her eyes with a sleepy sigh. “Good night.”

“Night.” A moment later though—“Hey, Charlie.”

“Sleeping,” came the mumbled reply. 

“Yeah, sure. But listen, what if I got you some nice clothes. Something other than suits. Would you wear them?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Nat smiled, pleased with the answer. “You promise?”

Charlie groaned and cracked one eye back open, “Yes, I promise. Can we  _ please _ go to sleep now? You wore me out.”

The smile turned into a smirk. “Yeah, I know.”

That had earned her a pinch, and then they’d gone to sleep. 

~

“Oh, fuck,” Nat breathes, “you look. . . .”

“I, ah, feel absolutely ridiculous.” 

The outfit was simple, but stunning. Charlie was wearing a midnight blue angora sweater that hugged every curve and showed a generous amount of cleavage, specially emphasized by a high quality push-up bra. The black pencil skirt beneath it fell past her knees, but had a slit up the side that went almost all the way up to where black laces gave the illusion that one pull of the right string and it might all slip open entirely. Her shoes were the least dramatic part of the new look, because Charlie had insisted she couldn’t walk in real heels—but considering she usually only ever wore flats, even kitten heels were charming. 

“You look fucking gorgeous,” Nat told her, coming to the side of the bed and swinging her legs over the edge to sit there staring in awe. “Really fucking hot.”

Charlie blushed, looked down, and looked back up when confronted with the view of her own breasts. “I feel like I’m on display.”

“Duh, that’s kind of the point. 

“I had to order a mandatory shutdown of security cameras and patrols in this wing for a whole ten minutes.”

Nat grinned. “Great, all for me then.”

“Well of course it—” Charlie sighed. “You could’ve at least made an effort yourself.”

The only clothes Nat had on were a plain pair of underwear and an old black t-shirt that, were it not so dark, would probably be showing pit stains beneath the arms. And also a bra, but only because not doing so tended to make her back hurt. 

Nat shrugged. “I’m a rockstar, baby, all my effort goes into the music. But enough about that.” She leaned back on one hand and patted her thighs. “You gonna come have a seat or what?”

Charlie put her hands on her hips. ( _ God _ , Nat thought,  _ she really needs to get those suits tailored better so I can see this more often. _ ) “I’m not. The slit on the side is the only reason I can walk in this skirt, I do not want to find out what happens when I sit down in it.”

“Okay.” Nat stood and walked over. “I’ll come to you then,” she said, moving in close enough to feel body heat and laying her hands over Charlie’s. 

“I still don’t know how I let you talk me into this.”

Nat smirked. “‘Cause I’d just put the last of thirteen smiles on your face, remember?” Her hands started to drift up, slipping under the whisper-soft sweater and skimming her short fingernails lightly over Charlie’s skin, just hard enough to scratch rather than tickle. She caught the satisfying hitch in the other woman’s breathing and kept going, reaching and following the curve of her ribcage. 

“You’re . . . exaggerating. It wasn’t, ah . . . wasn’t thirteen.”

“It was close.” Nat’s fingers were traveling still higher now, rucking the sweater up as she went, but she was too preoccupied with slipping them into the padded bra and teasing Charlie’s nipples with agonizing gentleness to appreciate the other woman’s impressive six pack. In a lot of ways Charlie was very diligent about taking care of herself, but sexually wasn’t one of them—which made her particularly easy to drive to distraction this way. “Let your hair down.”

Breathing shakily, Charlie reached up and pulled the pins from her hair until it came loose, spilling down her neck and across her shoulders in brunette waves. 

The rest of the evening passed very pleasantly indeed, and afterwards Nat even managed to convince Charlie to keep the sweater and bra. The shoes were returned; the skirt, ripped open from the slit as it was, was simply thrown out. 

But that night, they  _ did _ make it to at least thirteen. 

**Author's Note:**

> Gotta love a good titular reference to multiple orgasms, right?


End file.
